


Love's Not Just For Christmas

by The_Magpie_Knight



Series: Clint Barton Bingo [8]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas Elf!Clint, Cookies, Hanukkah, Holidays, Jewish Bucky Barnes, Lucky the Christmas Dog, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22141261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Magpie_Knight/pseuds/The_Magpie_Knight
Summary: Clint is a Christmas elf who isn't feeling the Christmas spirit. When he literally runs into Bucky Barnes and gets an invitation to Hanukkah, he finds that holiday joy doesn't just come from Christmas.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Series: Clint Barton Bingo [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1514243
Comments: 7
Kudos: 50
Collections: Clint Barton Bingo, Winterhawk Bingo





	Love's Not Just For Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> A little late for the holidays but at least I got it out! Many thanks to Dottie for betaing and getting me through this. For Clint Barton Bingo, square B2, "Cookies", and for Winterhawk Bingo, square B1, "Jewish Bucky Barnes", and also for the WHB's Winter Holidays prompt, "Holiday cookies"

“‘Go walk the dog, Clint,’” Clint grumbled mockingly. “‘Surely you can’t screw up that, Clint’. I mean, I’m not that bad at my job, am I? What do you think, Lucky?” The dog looked up from sniffing a pile of trash when he heard his name, giving Clint a tail wag and a doggy grin. “Why am I even asking you, it’s not like you can answer.” 

Clint trailed along at the end of the leash as Lucky sniffed his way up the sidewalk. He waited for a group of people, bundled up so much they looked like colored marshmallows on legs, to pass before speaking again, tugging at his green hat to make sure it covered the tips of his ears. 

Brooklyn in December was bitterly cold, but like all of Santa’s elves, Clint could keep himself warm with Christmas magic. Which was why he was wearing jeans with holes in the knees and a snowman sweater in addition to his green elf hat. Lucky was wearing a Santa hat perched between his ears. Clint had no idea how it was staying there without a strap or anything but he assumed it was more magic. 

“Sure, I’m not the best elf, like, I know my cookies and coffee tend to come out a little burnt, and I’m not great at sewing or woodworking unless it involves projectiles and ways to carry them, but is it my fault that all the toy bows and arrows these days are made from plastic? I don’t know how to make things out of plastic either. Technology just moves too fast, right? I’m not as young as I used to be.” Lucky circled around him and nosed at his hand. Clint sighed and rubbed his ears. 

“Thanks, bud. At least you won’t judge me, right?” he asked. 

Lucky wagged his tail, sniffing the air, and then took off like a shot, yanking the leash out of Clint’s hand before he could react. 

“Hey! Lucky! Lucky, come back!” Clint took off after him as he pelted up the street, leash trailing. Several people dodged out of the way. Clint clapped a hand over his hat as he felt it start slipping. Lucky was arrowing for a guy carrying a stack of small red boxes. “Lucky, stop! Hey, man, look out!” Clint called. He put on a burst of speed and made a grab for the leash, but missed as Lucky bowled the guy over. Clint stumbled over the man and his spilled boxes. He pinned the end of the leash beneath his knee and grabbed it as he pushed his hat up out of his eyes. 

“Oh man, I am so sorry, are you okay?” he asked, turning around. His breath caught as he got a good look at the guy sprawled out on the sidewalk. 

He was _gorgeous_ , and Clint spent a lot of time around people and things that were beautiful, so he knew what he was talking about. Stormy gray eyes and plush red lips in a handsome face framed by strands of dark brown hair that had escaped from his bun, followed up with a dark blue sweater with silver accents that only flattered his complexion and his shoulders. Even the fact he was scowling didn’t detract from his overall attractiveness. 

“Dude, what the fuck? Control your dog,” he said, pushing himself up on gloved hands. 

“I’m so sorry, and he’s not really my dog?” Clint said. 

The guy directed his scowl at Clint instead of all the scattered boxes. “What do you mean, he’s not your dog?” he demanded. 

“Technically he belongs to my boss. I’m just walking him,” Clint said, holding up his hands defensively. 

“Is your boss gonna care that his dog is eating my cookies?” he asked, looking at where Lucky was gobbling up the cookies that had spilled from one of the boxes. 

“Aw, Lucky, no!” Clint lunged for his collar, and Lucky darted away, white and blue frosting smeared on his muzzle. “Not the Christmas cookies!” 

“They’re not Christmas cookies, actually,” the guy said, gathering up the other boxes before they could be stepped on by other pedestrians or fall prey to Lucky’s appetite. “They’re Hanukkah cookies.” 

“That’s even worse! Now I’m interfering in another holiday!” Clint gave up on grabbing the dog and thumped back down. “I am so getting fired. I just fuck everything up, I can’t do anything right.” He snatched off his hat and threw it at Lucky, upset, and hid his face in his hands. After a moment, he could feel Lucky nosing at his hands, and the guy they’d run into sighed. 

“Hey, man, are you okay?” he asked. 

“No,” Clint said, hoping the fact it was muffled by his hands would hide the fact he was trying not to cry. 

“Alright, well. If you really feel that bad about it, you can make it up to me.” 

Clint parted his fingers to glance up at him with one eye. “How?” 

The guy shrugged. “Come back to my apartment with me to help me switch out these cookies, and then you can buy me a coffee.” 

“I’m no good at making cookies, I always burn them,” Clint said miserably. 

“That’s okay. I made a big batch. As long as you can help me box them up, it’ll be fine.” 

“I think I can do that,” Clint said slowly, dropping his hands. The guy smiled at him and _oh_. 

“Great.” He stood up and offered his hand to Clint, pulling him to his feet when Clint took it, and then not letting go for a moment. “I’m Bucky Barnes. What’s your name?” 

“Um, I’m Clint, and this is Lucky.” Lucky wagged his tail as he heard his name. Clint ducked to finally grab the leash, wiping his eyes and collecting his hat from Lucky’s shoulders as he did so. Bucky gathered his boxes and picked up the empty one, eyeing it before tossing it in a nearby trash can. Lucky had already cleared the spilled cookies from the sidewalk. 

“Come on, it’s back this way,” Bucky said with a jerk of his head. “It’s not far. Maybe this time I’ll get a bag to carry them so I don’t have to worry as much about dropping them.” 

“That might be a good idea,” Clint agreed, following along after him, Lucky for once staying obediently at his side. Bucky glanced back at him a few times while they were walking, and when Clint looked at him curiously, he just shook his head. Bucky’s apartment building was just around the corner. It was a quick climb up to the third floor, and Bucky paused in the process of unlocking the door. 

“He’s not gonna chase my cat, is he?” Bucky asked, glancing pointedly at Lucky. 

“Uhh...I hope not?” Clint said. Bucky looked unimpressed. “I swear I’ll hold onto him this time.” 

“You better.” Bucky pushed the door open and led the way in. He swung left, flipping on lights as he went. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” 

Clint looked around, holding tight to Lucky’s leash. “No, it’s...it’s nice.” There were two doors off to the side, both open, one leading to a bathroom and the other showing a bed with a gray blanket. The kitchen Bucky had headed into opened into a living room, the other wall covered in windows. The couch in the middle had a cat curled up on the back. Lucky made a low sound and Clint wrapped the leash around his fist to tighten the slack. 

“So you really have enough cookies to replace a whole box?” Clint asked, stepping into the kitchen. 

“A small box, sure. If it was a larger one I might have had a problem,” Bucky said, carefully stacking his boxes into a reusable shopping bag. “Luckily, I know my family and myself well enough to bake in large batches.” 

“Your family?”

“Yeah, tonight’s the last night of Hanukkah, so the whole crew is getting together. But my mother refused to do _all_ the cooking, said we’re all adults and we can pitch in. And I’m not so great at cooking for more than one, but I’ve got a lot of practice at baking, so cookies it is.” 

“Makes sense,” Clint said, nodding. 

“What about you?” Bucky asked, glancing over as he pulled a flat piece of red cardboard out of a cupboard and proceeded to turn it into a box. “Did you spend Christmas with your family?” 

“Oh, uh...I don’t really have family. Not anymore.” He looked down and petted Lucky. Bucky was silent for a minute. 

“Friends?” he asked then. 

“Mostly just coworkers. And not a lot of them like me.” 

“Hm. That sucks,” Bucky said, sounding distracted. “Do me a favor and get the blue tupperware out of the fridge? Just don’t shake it.” 

“Sure.” Clint pulled the designated container out and brought it over. Bucky opened the lid and started transferring the cookies inside it into the new box. 

“This is gonna wipe me out, but whatever, I can still eat some at the party,” he said, emptying the container. He dumped it into the sink for later. The box was carefully placed in the bag with all the other boxes, and then he looked up at Clint. “So, how about that coffee?” 

Clint looked at everything, realizing how little work he did to get it all put together. “I guess I didn’t really help.” 

“I didn’t really need help with it, I just...didn’t feel right about leaving you like that. But I could still go for a coffee,” Bucky said. 

Clint sighed and removed his hat to run a hand through his hair. “Yeah, alright.” 

“You know, you don’t really have to if you don’t want to.” 

“No, I want to. I owe it to you for everything. It’s just been a long week.” 

“Maybe you need some coffee too,” Bucky pointed out. 

Clint looked up and quirked a small smile to match Bucky’s. “Yeah, maybe. It is one of my favorite things.” 

“Well, then let’s go.” Bucky collected the bag, glanced at the sleeping cat, and then ushered Clint and Lucky out of the apartment and locked back up. “Come on, there’s a good coffee shop a couple blocks from here, and it’s on the way.” 

Together, they headed down to the street and started walking. Lucky kept pace at Clint’s side, and though he was sniffing at everything curiously, he thankfully didn’t run off again. Clint automatically fell back a couple steps, letting Bucky lead, only for Bucky to pause on a corner and raise an eyebrow at him. 

“You can walk beside me, you know,” Bucky said, a quirk of his lips showing that he was teasing. 

Clint felt his ears turning warm. “Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I’m just not used to it.” 

“Hm.” Bucky turned back, waiting on the light. “We’ll have to fix that,” he muttered, so low Clint wasn’t sure he heard right. 

“So. Hanukkah cookies, huh?” Clint asked. 

“Yeah. My aunts are the queens of casseroles, and my sister’s a chef so she’ll probably have brought something fancy with chicken or pasta. My uncle always makes meatballs that everyone loves, I think he puts beer in the sauce or something. But I can guarantee no one would have thought of sugar cookies because everything thinks of them as Christmas cookies. I thought I’d be subversive and steal from the Christians.” Bucky gave him a cheeky grin and Clint couldn’t help chuckling. 

“Well I suppose if you don’t celebrate Christmas then you don’t have to worry about ending up on Santa’s naughty list.” 

“Nope, not really. My sister’s husband is, I don’t know, Protestant or something, so their kids get all the Jewish traditions _and_ the Christian ones. Fun times there. Honestly, I’ve always thought that the idea of a jolly old fat man in a red suit coming down your chimney to leave presents was a little weird, but who am I to judge? I just always wondered how he was supposed to fit down those chimneys anyway.” 

“Christmas magic, of course,” Clint said. 

“Right, of course.” Bucky chuckled. “So what about you? Do you celebrate Christmas?” 

“Well, I guess I do by default. I always work on Christmas.” 

“By default? What do you do?” 

“Oh, it’s uh...a charity type of thing? We collect and make toys for children all year and then distribute them for Christmas.” 

“Sounds like you’re a regular old Santa’s elf,” Bucky commented. 

“Ha! Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Clint kicked at a pebble and sent it into the street. 

“Well, we’re here. Maybe some coffee will cheer you up,” Bucky said. He held the door open for Clint, who glanced briefly at Lucky and then walked into the shop, just hoping the dog would behave himself and do a good job at pretending to be a service animal. “What are you going to get?” 

“Uh, coffee?” 

Bucky snorted. “Anything more specific than that, Mr. Christmas?” 

“... _Hot_ coffee?” 

“Okay.” Bucky perused the menu boards. “Do you trust me to pick something for you?” 

“You barely know me,” Clint protested. 

“Just trust me. I’ve got a feeling. Any preferences?” 

“Nothing mocha. The chocolate-coffee mixture is weird.” 

“No mocha, okay.” Bucky stepped forward as the people in front of them stepped aside. “Hi, can I get a caramel latte and a cinnamon latte with an extra shot?” 

“Anything else?” the cashier asked. Bucky glanced questioningly at Clint, who shook his head. 

“No, that’s all, thanks,” Bucky said. Clint stepped up to pay, and then they moved aside to wait. 

“So,” Bucky said. “You work on Christmas, you don’t have much family, you’re walking your boss’s dog so I assume you don’t have your own. What do you do in your spare time? Like what are your hobbies?” 

“Well, I, uh...I do archery.” 

“Archery, really? You any good?” 

“I never miss,” Clint said, gaining a little confidence back. Their drinks were called, so they collected them and Bucky tilted his head towards a table by the windows. They went and sat down, Lucky tucking himself under the table between their feet. 

“That’s impressive,” Bucky said. “You’ll have to show me sometime.” 

“Really?” Clint asked. 

Bucky smiled at him. “Really. Our…unusual meeting aside, I like you, and I’d like to get to know you better.” 

“Oh.” Clint could feel himself blushing. “I like you too,” he said, smiling back. 

“That’s great,” Bucky said genuinely, tucking his hair behind his ear. “I just have one question first.” 

“Just one?” Clint echoed. 

Bucky smiled again and gestured with his cup. “What’s with the ears?” 

Clint automatically reached up to make sure his hat was covering his ears. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean the fact that they’re pointed.” 

“They’re uh...prosthetic ears. I thought I’d really get into the elf thing this year, you know?” Clint tried. Bucky raised an eyebrow. 

“Clint, I saw them turn red when you blushed. I know they’re real.” 

Clint sighed and slumped in his seat. 

“So are you a mutant or something?” Bucky asked. 

“I’m definitely getting fired if I can’t even keep that secret,” Clint muttered. He looked at Bucky seriously. “Are you going to believe me if I tell you?” Bucky just nodded, seeming to understand the seriousness of what Clint was about to say. Clint glanced around to make sure no one was listening, and dropped his voice a little just to be sure. “I’m a Christmas elf. My boss is Santa Claus.” He grimaced. “Well, actually Santa is my boss’s boss’s boss, but yeah.” 

“How’d you get that job?” Bucky asked next, curious. 

“Well, it’s...sort of a family business? When people stopped believing in magic, elves had to hide or we’d face the same sort of persecution that led to the Salem witch trials. Saint Nick gave us a place to go where we’d always be safe: the North Pole.” 

“But the North Pole is just a spot in the ocean that’s at the top of the planet.” 

“Well yeah, but there’s the North Pole and then there’s _the North Pole_.” 

“What’s the difference?” 

Clint rubbed the back of his neck. “The North Pole is a different place that isn’t actually at the North Pole. Nick made a...I think you would call it a pocket dimension. It can’t be found on Earth, and only certain people can find the Way in.” 

“What sort of people?” Bucky asked, leaning forward. 

“People with magic, people who really _believe_. Most children could find it if they could only get there, but most people won’t take children on arctic expeditions.” Clint shrugged. “Anyway, Nick was the patron saint of children. He would take them gifts of toys and fruit, things like that, and then the elves started helping him make the toys and deliver them, partly in gratitude and partly out of boredom. By the time Nick was nearing the end of his lifetime, the operation had grown so big, the sleigh and reindeer had come into play. But no one wanted Nick to die because they enjoyed the traditions too much, no one wanted it to end, especially Nick. So the elves came together and pooled enough magic between them to grant Nick immortality. It was enough that it also made it possible for him to travel the world in a single night and fit through chimneys and all that other stuff. Christmas magic.” 

Bucky nodded thoughtfully. “So what’s your part in all this?” 

“My part?” Clint glanced out the window with a nostalgic, bittersweet smile. “Woodcrafting, with an emphasis on straight lines. Archery was my specialty. I was, I _am_ , the best at what I do, but then...bows and arrows fell out of fashion when people invented guns. The metal, the plastic, I couldn’t shape it the way that I could the wood. So I got shuffled around to other departments, but I can’t sew well enough, or paint well enough, or bake or anything. These days pretty much all I do is clean up after the reindeer.” 

“Guns were invented in the early 1400s, but they didn’t really get developed for practical use until the 1600s. And you talk about Nick as if you know him. As you saying you were there for all of that?” Bucky asked. 

Clint glanced at him. “I was young when Nick first brought us to the North Pole, but yeah. I’m about two thousand years old.” 

Bucky sat back, raising his eyebrows. “You look good for your age.” 

Clint snorted. “Thanks, I think.” 

Bucky tapped his fingers against his cup. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but it seems to me that you’re not happy with your job. Isn’t Christmas supposed to be about the joy of giving? Most holidays are about happiness, and you don’t seem to have a lot of Christmas spirit.” 

Clint shrugged, staring at his hands. “Yeah, I guess not.” 

“So why don’t you leave?” 

“Leave?” Clint asked sharply, looking up. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, why are you staying there in a job that you don’t like? Wouldn’t it be better if you could do something that didn’t make you miserable?” 

“I...I can’t leave.” 

“Why not?” 

“No one leaves the North Pole! Where would we go? What would we do?” 

“Anything you want,” Bucky said. Clint just stared at him. “How do you know no one’s ever left before? Do you know everyone who lives there?” 

“Well...no, but…” Clint trailed off, thinking. “We’ve...we’ve only lost a handful of our people over the years. Mostly the ones who were old and tired, but there were a few younger. My best friend, she...she disappeared one day. No one ever said exactly what happened, but everyone acted like she’d died. Are you saying that maybe…” 

“Maybe,” Bucky agreed softly. 

After a moment, Clint shook his head. “Don’t get my hopes up, okay?” 

“Alright, I’m sorry,” Bucky said. “But there’s no reason for you to stay there, right? If you’re not forced to stay, you should be able to get out and pursue your own happiness. Find something that gives you joy and makes you smile.” He reached out and put his hand on top of Clint’s, which were twisting around each other on the table. Clint stopped and looked up at him, and Bucky smiled. “In fact, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you start tonight? Come with me and get a taste of how it doesn’t have to be all Christmas all the time.” 

“Come with you where?” Clint asked. 

“My mother’s house. Come to Hanukkah with me. There’s always more than enough food, and we may not be the most normal of people, but it’s always fun.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose…” Clint said hesitantly. 

“I’m sure. My mom was pressuring me to go on a date. I think you’ll do, if you want to.” 

Clint stared down at their hands on the table for a minute and then looked up with a shy smile. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.” 

“Great.” Bucky grinned at him. “Let’s go, then. My mom won’t be too happy with me if I miss the start.” 

They stood and gathered themselves together, tossing their empty cups in the trash before they went outside. Bucky reached out and caught Clint’s hand, giving him a smile and a squeeze when Clint looked at him. Lucky squirmed between them, wagging his tail. 

The Barnes family home was a well-kept brownstone, light and noise spilling out of it. Bucky led the way to the door, tried the handle, and when that didn’t work, knocked loudly. 

“Who locked the door?” he bellowed. 

“Sorry, reflex!” someone inside called. The door opened a moment later and the light and noise and warmth washed over them. “Hey, Bucky’s here!” The young woman who had opened the door grinned at them, her brown hair done up like Bucky’s, with a child on her hip. “And he’s not alone!” she called into the house. Bucky stepped forward to give her a one-armed hug and give the child a noisy kiss, earning a giggle. 

“Hi Becca. Don’t run off my new friend, okay? Becca, this is Clint, Clint, this is my sister Becca and her youngest anklebiter.” 

“Not the youngest for much longer,” Becca said, resting her hand on her stomach. 

“You’re pregnant again? Congratulations!” Bucky set down his bag to sweep her up in another hug. “Am I gonna have to beat that husband of yours off of you?” he asked. 

Becca snorted and shoved him away. “Knock it off. Go give mom whatever you brought and let her know you’re here. Even though she swore she wasn’t doing all the cooking this year, she’s still—” 

“—been in the kitchen all day,” Bucky finished with her, grinning. He kissed her cheek and headed into the house. Becca smiled at Clint and waved him in. 

“Come on in. Despite what Bucky says, none of us bite.” She closed the door behind him and glanced down at Lucky. “Is your dog kid-friendly?” 

“Uh, yes, definitely. He loves kids,” Clint answered quickly.

“Great. Make yourselves at home,” she said. “Don’t worry about keeping track of names or faces or relations, there’s a lot of us here. Anyone over hip-height can point you to the bathroom or the back door if you need to take your dog out, except Grandma Jo, who’s going to spend most of the evening sleeping in the armchair by the fire. Someone will come get you when we’re ready to start dinner, feel free to snack until then, no one will mind. Don’t go beyond the second floor, and I hope you enjoy your time here.” With that, she swept away and disappeared between two men bickering in a doorway. 

Clint hesitated just inside the door for several minutes, overwhelmed, until Lucky nosed at his hand and gently tugged at the leash, then he wandered into the house. Everywhere he went there were Barnes relatives, children running around between the adults. Every way he turned he was surrounded by family. And even though it was not Christmas, he felt a warmth not unlike magic, and a welcome he had not felt in a long time. 

A group of children tugged him down onto the floor to play a game with them, and when he glanced up over their heads, he saw Bucky standing in a doorway with a woman who could only be his mother. They both were smiling at him, and Clint smiled helplessly back. 

‘Maybe there was some truth to what Bucky had said,’ he thought, as one of the children tugged on his sleeve and he got back to the game. Maybe he could find something new. 

Maybe he _could_ be happy again. 


End file.
